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Titel: Foggy dew
Artist: The dublinners
'Twas down the glen one Easter morn
\n To a city fair rode I.
\n When Ireland's line of marching men
\n In squadrons passed me by.
\n No pipe did hum, no battle drum
\n Did sound its dread tattoo
\n But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swell
\n Rang out in the foggy dew.
\n
\n Right proudly high over Dublin town
\n They flung out a flag of war.
\n 'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
\n Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar.
\n And from the plains of Royal Meath
\n Strong men came hurrying through;
\n While Britannia's sons with their long-range guns
\n Sailed in through the foggy dew.
\n
\n Oh, the night fell black and the rifles crack
\n Made "Perfidious Albion" reel
\n 'Mid the leaden rail, seven tongues of flame
\n Did shine o'er the lines of steel
\n By each shining blade, a prayer was said
\n That to Ireland her sons be true
\n And when morning broke still the war flag shook
\n Out its fold in the Foggy Dew.
\n
\n 'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go
\n That small nations might be free
\n But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
\n or the fringe of the grey North Sea
\n Oh had they died by Pearse's side,
\n or had fought with Cathal Brugha
\n Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep,
\n 'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew.
\n
\n But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
\n Rang mournfully and clear
\n For those who died that Eastertide
\n In the springing of the year
\n And the world did gaze, with deep amaze,
\n At those fearless men and true
\n Who bore the fight that freedom's light
\n Might shine through the Foggy Dew.
\n
\n Ah, back through the glen I rode again,
\n And my heart with grief was sore
\n For I parted then with valiant men
\n Whom I never shall see more
\n But to and fro in my dreams I go
\n And I'd kneel and pray for you
\n For slavery fled, O glorious dead,
\n When you fell in the Foggy Dew.
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